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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231778">bold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas'>debilitas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>clearing out drafts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Short One Shot, it’s a homoerotic practice fight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:40:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bloodhound/Makoa Gibraltar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>clearing out drafts [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bold</h2></a>
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    <p>Edge of the blade still pressed to the underside of his chin, Makoa risks a swallow. The well-polished steel is icy against flushed skin, and he feels beads of sweat pool in the hollow of his throat. </p>
<p>It’d only take half an effort, the slightest flinch from the steady hand to break the skin. Skin that’s rough to the touch, because he didn’t shave that morning. </p>
<p>He considers asking Blood to do it for him— since they’re already there and all. Not that they’d find it very funny.</p>
<p>They stand parallel to him, chest to chest, subtly balancing on their toes to feign a more impressive height. Dressed in so many layers that Makoa just feels a few degrees hotter from looking at them, sucking in ragged breaths.</p>
<p>Gaining the upper hand in this spar had winded them, more than they’d like to admit. </p>
<p>The solid wall at Makoa’s back is cool on his bare arms and shoulders, a sigh of relief threatening to escape his lips. The practice rooms are always entirely too hot, only emboldened by humidity when occupied. </p>
<p>“You are foolish,” they scold, and the air is thick with something new. “A bold rabbit is easy prey.”</p>
<p>Makoa layers his fingers over the ones that grip the hilt of the blade, picturing the stern look they must be giving him. Bloodhound often conveys a novel’s worth of words in an expression, localized entirely within their eyes. Pools of dark brown that can both condemn and redeem him in a single glance.</p>
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